Web of Fate
by EveryDayBella
Summary: The night Edvard was born, the Fates wove him a thread of gold and black, sealing his destiny. As Edvard matured, he grew into his role of a warrior, his ferocity rivaling Thor's, but his heart never belonged to the jarl's daughter as the Fates intended. No, his soul was meant for another, a fair-skinned seer named Elisabet. But can true love sever the chord even the Gods cannot?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **Oh lord, this little thing came to me one morning between sleep and awake. It was just so clear and present that I had to write it so I wrote this piece. Then afterward it wouldn't let me go. So I wrote and wrote and wrote. I'm currently at eleven chapters and not even to the real root of the story. So yeah, it's being continued. Just not sure when yet. Watch this space.

Much, much love to Lyricalkris for betaing this for me and to Angelycdevil and lellabeth for pre-reading for me. Those girls are awesome and you should check out their stories to!

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**Author name: **EveryDayBella

**Email Address: **doctorwhoandtennentlover

**FFN profile page link: **** ~everydaybella**

**Title of Story: **Web of Fate

**Word Count: **5318

**Type of Edward: **norseward

**Category (Literotica or Young Adult): **Literotica

**Story Summary: **The night Edvard was born, the Fates sealed his destiny. He grew into his role of a warrior, but his heart never belonged to the jarl's daughter as the Fates intended. Instead is belonged to another, a seer named Elísabet. But can true love cut the thread that even the Gods could not?

**Standard Disclaimer: **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Web of Fate**

The long house was full this night. The boats had returned with treasures from the East, and it was time to celebrate and give thanks to the gods. With luck, Odin had smiled on them and the winter would be brief.

The air was filled with the sound of drums, chatting, and laughter. One of Jarl Ari's attendants had produced a harp. Its plaintive sound could barely be heard over the clatter of stone cups and the lewd laughter of the men.

Elísabet, from the time she was a still a young girl clinging to her mother's skirts, had always loved the parties thrown by the Jarl and his wife. She loved the smell of rich, fatty meats roasting over open flames and the taste of a strong ale on her tongue. She would let the beat of the drum seep into her bones and carry her through the night. As the daughter of the seer, she knew what it was to commune with the gods, but it was the communing with the gods' creations that had always fascinated her most.

This night was different. She weaved through the bodies and smoke—a ghost amongst men. She ignored the call of men longing for the warmth of a woman's body. The months had been long on the seas, after all. She knew where she was going and managed to block out the crowd around her.

He was hard to miss. The bronze fire of his hair stood out through the haze that filled the air. The sharp planes of his face were highlighted in the glow from the fires. He was surrounded, and appeared to be retelling a story. He used his hands to talk, and Elísabet was enraptured watching the muscles in his arm ripple as he made grand gestures. His fingers were long, graceful. He had the fingers of a musician, not a warrior, yet she knew that he was more than capable on the battlefield. Her mother had prophesied over him as a babe. It appeared Odin was more than pleased with him.

As if sensing her gaze, his green eyes flashed up to hers. She was still standing in the back of the longhouse. How he saw her small body, hiding amongst the crowd, she would never know. As soon as their eyes met, his words died out and he stared, transfixed in her gaze. It was shock, awe, and no small amount of reverence. She was a goddess too good for the realm of Midgard and he was her vassal.

His lips turned up into a beautiful smile—blissful and mischievous. So many months at sea, yet here he was. The entire community surrounded them, but they were the only beings in each other's eyes. Time had not dimmed her beauty, nor his fierceness.

Elísabet spoke more with her eyes than her lips. He saw eternity in her gaze, and would have chased her to end of this earth and the next to remain in it.

She crooked her finger, drawing him forward, then disappeared into the sea of people. It wasn't hard for her to weave through the people still celebrating in the longhouse. She was ethereal and unnoticed unless she wanted to be.

Slipping through the crowd, she made it out the door. The thick, warm air inside gave away to the cool autumn breeze. Winter was coming and with it, the snows. Elísabet knew time was short and sent a silent prayer to Freya and Lofn that the fates would be kind this night.

Before he could catch her, she pulled her cloak tighter around herself and set out across the street. She could feel him behind her, following her trail through the mists. The forest loomed tall and foreboding before them, but that was where she was heading.

They should have been frightened. The forests were haunted and she was but a girl, barely a woman, and the daughter of the seer. The hold would come to depend on her visions when the gods reclaimed her Mother. He was a warrior, strong and fierce in battle as only Thor had been before him. His enemies were flesh and blood. Their bones could break and their life's blood could spill, but his sword had no power over the spirits that roamed the woods. His battle cry could not scare them, and his strength would have no effect over them.

Neither of them gave thought to their fear, however. The night was dark, and the mists hid them from the world. They knew these paths and the forests were home. The spirits would respect their coupling in a way that their own people never would have.

He caught her as she stepped foot into the glade. His strong, calloused hands grabbed her wrist, twisting her to face him. His lips descended and he kissed her with ravenous force. His moan filled the moonlit glade and she melted into his embrace. His arms held strong to her waist and she could feel the warmth seeping off his body.

Elísabet clung tight to his shoulders. The furs and leather of his clothing were soft and smooth, but she longed for the roughness of his skin. With his lips still devouring hers, she reached for the ties of his tunic. She fumbled with the knots and moaned as her frustration grew. She needed him. It had been many long months since she had felt him against her. She had spent the summer uncertain as to where he was, or if the Valkyries had taken him to Valhalla. She had been unable to show her worry and fear with the other women. No one could know they did this. She had been alone in her thoughts.

He pulled away from her long enough to slip the leather over his head. The hard planes of his chest were exposed to her hungry eyes. She wasn't given much time to drink him in. His lips were soon on her neck, licking, sucking and biting the creamy skin there. She arched in his arms, offering herself as a sacrifice to him and only him.

"Elísabet," he moaned, his voice deep and smooth like the roar of the thunder. "My beautiful, Bet. I have missed you."

Elísabet's skin warmed as the childhood nickname fell from his lips. She still remembered the teasing smile he would give her as he chased her through the streets of the village. They had been playmates and confidants. She had soaked his bruises when he learned to fight, and only she had known how much it hurt. He was the only one who shortened her name. Only he called her Bet.

"Edvard," she whispered, for once forgetting the gods, and the jarl, and the whole hold. Nothing existed in that moment but his arms around her and his lips against the tender skin of her neck. Her fingers twisted into his long, thick hair, and she clung to him as if the mists would make him disappear. "You were gone too long."

He made a low sound of contentment and nuzzled against her. The rough hairs of his short beard tickled her sensitive skin and sent a shiver of delight down her spine. "I came back as soon as I could." His breath was hot against her skin and his arms tightened, holding her closer to the warmth of his skin.

"It was still too long. I was so lonely. There was no one I could talk to. You took them all with you."

Edvard pulled away and placed Elísabet back on her feet. He dwarfed her in size—she looked small and delicate next to him—but he knew the true strength of her heart. She was no warrior. She had never taken part in play fighting with the other children, but she was more certain and stout than the greatest warrior Edvard knew. So while she looked small next to him, she appeared to be a giant in his eyes.

His large hands cupped her cheeks, the light of the moon reflected in her eyes. "I followed the jarl the battle, but my heart was here with you. Whether we are in secret or in front of the whole horde, it is always yours, Bet. You are my first thought when I wake in the morning, and the last when my eyes close at night."

The smile that grew across her face was blinding. She knew their future was limited, but that would not stop her from loving him while there was still yet time. "As you are mine, Edvard."

His lips swooped down to hers, and this time they were gentle and loving. Their souls caressed each other's like ancient lovers, recognizing their other half. For the first time in months Edvard and Elísabet felt complete. Time was foremost in their minds, and it seemed to be ticking down all too fast. It was borrowed from the gods, and they would soon demand payment.

Their lips grew hungrier, fever again taking over. The cold mists swept in and hid them from the world. Elísabet's fingers traced the planes of Edvard's bare back. She could feel the fine tremors snake through him. His hardness, still contained behind the leather of his pants, pressed into her stomach as he held her.

One of Edvard's hands held a handful of her thick brown hair, while the other bunched the soft white fabric of her cloak. He had never seen her in something so fine, and it had left him breathless when he first saw her in the longhouse. She had appeared out of the crowd and smoke as a ghost, and he still wasn't convinced she wasn't a spirit walking out of his dreams.

Elísabet pushed against his chest and he released her. He watched, spellbound as she pulled the golden cord at her throat. The cloak fell to her feet with a whisper, revealing every graceful line of her body. She had worn nothing under the white cloak, her body a feast for his eyes. He had not seen her like this since he left to go viking with the jarl. He felt like a man being offered a drink of cold water after traversing a great dessert.

She blushed under his studious gaze but had not felt so alive in months. His blazing green eyes turned her skin to fire.

The chilly air caused her nipples to harden. Edvard's eyes roamed her body, drinking in the sight of her. She was the apple of his eye. He only wished he could claim her before the eyes of the company. She belonged to him in the eyes of the gods, but to the hold, she was an unclaimed woman, young and in her prime. His ultimate worry was that one of the men would drink too much one night and forget his place. Bet was a seer, and one day she would take her place to lead the people in following the gods. If one man decided to ignore the gods' will and sullied Elísabet, she would be unable to do so.

There was another reason, of course. Edvard loved his Bet. He had since they were children. He had always known what she was and would be, so he had worshiped the ground she walked on. She was the light he followed in the darkness. He had never meant to touch her. It wasn't his place. He was a humble warrior, not meant to be with one important as a seer. It would be up to the jarl, her mother, and the gods whom she wedded.

Bet had claimed her bed was her own, and she would take there whomever she wanted. Edvard had been as powerless in front of her then as he was now. So they hid their love and approached each other in secret. They were faithful to each other, and would be for as long as they could. They knew time was not on their side. The jarl had taken a shine to Edvard, and Elísabet was of birthing age. Their time together was coming to a close.

The world seemed to be a weight on Edvard's shoulders as he fell to his knees in front of her. His rough fingertips ran up the skin from her waist to the underside of her breasts. She gasped as he teased her body. Edvard leaned forward and kissed her navel. His arms wrapped around her waist and held her close to his body. Her fingers combed through his hair as his lips pressed soft, feathery kisses into her stomach. His touch warmed her skin, erasing the effects of the wind. He was lost in the silk under his fingers and lips. She was heaven, and he never wanted to leave.

He worshipped the woman before him, showing her more devotion than he had ever shown a god. He cared for her more than he had ever cared for anyone. She was soft and warm in bed, and her tongue was sharper than any blade. She was wise beyond her young age. Smarter than many man he knew. He was constantly in awe of her beautiful body and wonderful mind.

His lips wandered down to the soft patch of brown curls between her thighs. He felt her breath hitch as he wandered lower, seeking out the soft folds that lead to her sex. Edvard loved eating her sweet pussy, hearing the soft cries that came from her lips. Her pleasure only made his greater.

His hands held both globes of her bottom as his tongue reached out to part her lower lips. Her breath came out in a gasp and her body tensed as his tongue delved into her. Her mind went blank as fire began to spread through her limbs. The flames began spreading up her body, leaving a delicious numbness in their wake. Then his tongue would flick her clit again and start it all over.

One of his hands came down to her thigh, picked up her leg, and draped it over his shoulder. This opened her further to him and his tongue slipped into her wet heat. She had to grip his hair in tight fists—earning a grunt from Edvard—to order to remain on her feet. The waves of sharp pleasure that rushed through her body caused her to lose focus on the world around her. She just wanted him. She thrust wantonly against his face as wordless moans fell from her lips.

Edvard's lips turned up in a grin. He could feel how close she was to falling apart. Her inner walls were trying to grip his tongue and her tiny, sensitive nub had swollen and pulsed with her heartbeat. She only needed one sweet push to fall over the edge.

She felt one of his hands leave her ass as his lips wrapped around her clit. Her breath escaped her in a sigh as one long, graceful finger filled her. She rocked against him as the pleasure rushed over her. She tried to hold on, to continue to feel him filling her, but as he sucked, flicked, and thrust his finger into her, she lost her grip and fell. She screamed his name to the spirit-filled mists as the pleasure exploded within her.

He only stopped when he felt her jump away from him. She was too sensitive, and he knew she needed to recover. As she collapsed, he guided her spent body to fall against him. Her chest heaved as she breathed and Edvard found himself distracted as her breasts rose and fell. He crushed her against him as the forest quieted around them.

Elísabet lazily pressed small kisses against his neck and shoulders. Her limbs felt heavy, but she hadn't felt so contented in many months. Edvard was home, safe in her arms—for this moment at least.

She felt tears sting her eyes. She hadn't let herself think until that moment how she missed him, how much she needed him. The pleasure he brought to her was greater than any she had caused herself. So many long nights with only herself and her memories in the depths of the darkness. There was nothing that could ever compare to the softness of his tongue against her, the warmth of his arms around her waist.

She was suddenly overwhelmed as time came crashing down on her. She didn't know when, but all too soon they would be ripped apart. He was blessed by Odin. The Norns had weaved him a destiny that would take him far from her. Many seas and many lands away from their home was a land that needed him. They could only do as Odin commanded.

"Bet," he murmured low in her ear. "My beautiful girl, why do you cry? Tell me and I will slay it so it will never trouble you."

"What I fear cannot be undone." She buried her face in Edvard's neck, inhaling the smell of evergreen and the sea that clung to his skin. "It is older than either you or I, woven into our Web of Fate."

Gently his fingers pulled her face to where he could study it. Her endless brown eyes were heavy with sorrow and an ancient misery. Edvard's heart broke for her. He couldn't remember when last she had been happy and at peace. It had been too long since he had seen her truly smile. A winter had settled into her soul and he was powerless to stop it. "Did you see something, while I was away?"

Elísabet's visions had always been a drain on her. Knowing the future was a not a blessing, but a curse. The fact that she could not control when they came or what she saw only made them harder to bear. She was chosen by the gods, but she could only see what they willed. Sometimes it was the full story and sometimes it was only one moment. It could be maddening and it had driven seers crazy before. Edvard had been a constant source of comfort to her and the thought that she had been alone when one arrived pierced his soul.

Meekly, she nodded, unable to look him in the eye. "Our fates are separated. Yours lies across a great sea and mine walks the paths I have walked since we were children. I don't know the time exactly, but someday soon you will leave me."

Edvard shook his head. Elísabet could see the fire that had ignited in his eyes. He was stubborn. It was one of the things that made him a great warrior, but this was a battle that she knew he would be unable to win. "Never." His voice was made of steel and his arms formed a cage about her. "I will simply take you with me. Nothing will ever keep you away from me, Bet."

"Edvard, you can no more fight your destiny than the gods can fight theirs. They were woven as we were born, and they cannot be broken. I'm sorry, my love. I wish there was something..."

Edvard interrupted her by kissing the words out of her mouth. He would not listen. The gods and the Narns could be damned for all he cared. Elísabet was his, the other half of his soul, and that could not be broken-not by fate, not by death.

She clung to neck and became aware again of where they were. It was still night, deep in the haunted woods. No one knew they were there and no one could remove them from each other. This was their fate for this night. The rest would come later.

They became aware again of skin and touch. His hands again gripped the curve of her ass and pulled against him. She could feel his hardness, still hidden from her sight in his leathers, against her folds. She moaned against his lips as her hips began to swivel on their own accord.

The fire had been rekindled this time fueled by desperation, need, and a unfettered love. Edvard pushed her back on to her spread cloak and hovered over her. Her was mesmerized by the sight of her body in the moonlight. Her pale skin was luminescent, like it would disappear at the first wisp of wind. Her skin was the color of the first snows and just as smooth. Her dark hair was a halo around her fair face, her eyes deep brown and overflowing with love and sorrow. He saw everything he needed in her gaze, and it humbled him in ways in nothing else ever could. It was a humbling that he gladly accepted, for in her eyes he saw everything that he needed to be.

Elísabet's fingers didn't shake as she reached for the ties of his leather. In one smooth motion, she pulled on the ends and slipped her hand inside. He shuddered as her small hand gripped his hard length. It had been too long. He hadn't availed himself of the women in the villages they had ravaged. He only had eyes for her. He wasn't sure how long he would last, but the moan that escaped his lips told her that he didn't want her to ever let go.

It took all the will power in his body to pull away from her long enough to shrug his trousers off. He returned to her as fast as he could, unwilling to be away. They kissed long and slow, their tongues twisting and hands wandering. The mists grew close, but they gave them no mind. The spirits would not bother them for this night.

Elísabet's hand wandered back down the hard planes of Edvard's chest. Her mouth had caressed every line before and she longed to do it again. Edvard would not wait however. Máni could only guide the moon across the sky for so long before the dawn reclaimed the land. Edvard had no intention of wasting the time they had.

Elísabet gasped and he thrust into her. The sudden intrusion was painful. She was no longer used to him being within her. She gripped his shoulders and forced herself to relax. Edvard rained small kisses down her face, knowing that he was hurting her and doing everything he could make up for it.

Slowly she loosened her grip and smiled. Edvard reclaimed her lips and began to move inside her. Elísabet groaned and raked her nails into his back. The sudden force of her actions drew a moan from her lover's lips. He intensified his thrusts driving himself into her.

Her back arched and her mouth opened in a sigh. The small sounds that rained from her lips only made Edvard harder. His body fell onto hers, covering every inch and pinning her to the ground. Her legs wrapped around his waist in turn pinning him to her. They were one in that moment, a single fate, a single destiny, and a single entity under the moon.

A beat heard only by their ears drove them on. Lost in the song only they could hear, the pleasure they gave each other was paramount. Nothing else mattered. They were together and there was no past and no future, just that moment. It was a dance as old as time, and they had perfected it long ago. Their soul was one.

Edvard groaned in her ear. "Bet." His voice was low and husky and she could feel it through their crushed skin. "No matter what happens tomorrow or the next day, you must remember this. This is us, eternally."

She cried his name as the pleasure rushed over her. She was overwhelmed as the feelings crushed her under their weight. She clung to him with her body, pulling him under with her. The mists swallowed their cries and they were lost in a world of their own making.

Elísabet was first aware of Edvard's weight. He was heavy, but she did not mind. She had missed the weight of his body and the heat that seeped off of him in the long months he had been gone. She pressed a line of kisses up and down his neck. He muttered something she did not understand. He lifted himself off and rolled so that she could be tucked against his chest. His fingers combed through her hair, calming them both.

She felt small against him, like she was not strong enough to hold on. The tears were again pricking her eyes and she tried to ignore them. This moment was too perfect—and too fleeting—to mar with her transitory

emotions.

Edvard's lips found hers and kissed her like a dying man. They were all too aware that this moment was stolen and the next not guaranteed. They stayed entwined in the night, unwilling to let go and let the moment pass.

Elísabet was unaware of how much time had passed when she felt him stir again. Edvard pulled them so that they were sitting on the crumpled remains of her cloak. "We should head back. Someone will be missing us."

"Promise me this is not the last we will be alone?" She was a little ashamed of how scared her voice sounded. She was a seer of the gods, a humble servant of Odin All-Father. Fear had no place in her body or mind. She must remain strong and stout in the face of all danger, as the warriors did. When it came to the love she felt for this man, all the training she had placed in her mind seemed to disappear. She needed him and the thought of losing him was enough to shatter her mind.

Edvard's hand cupped her cheeks and forced her to meet her gaze. His unusual green eyes were fierce in their anger and power. She was trapped powerless in his gaze. "I will never leave you. I don't care about fate, or what the gods want from me. I only care about you. No matter where I go or where I am sent, I will always come back for you. Believe me?"

She knew if anyone had enough fire in their spirit to defy the Norns and the gods themselves, it was her Edvard. She nodded. He would be strong and she would find her strength in him until she had some of her own.

Their silent vows were sealed with a kiss under the moonlit sky with the ancient spirits as witness. They would step out on the dark path together and pray that it would lead them right. They had no desire for a life without the other, but they would have to fight many battles and sacrifice more than could be bared before they reached their goals.

It was later, while back at the longhouse, that the first of the dark strands of their web revealed itself. Jarl Ari stood from his high wooden seat and motioned for silence. Immediately drums, harps, and fiddles were put away, the sound of laughter and drinking was cut out like the silence after a bolt of lightning. It was shattering and jarring in its absolute stillness. Jarl Ari had been elected leader and his word was law.

Elísabet rose to her feet to see better. Her skin pricked at the surge of power that had swept down her spine. The winds of change had arrived, and they would blow everything were they willed. She was powerless to stop it and so was Edvard.

"Edvard, son of Birger, Blessed by Odin." There was a smile behind the Jarl's wiry, black beard, but his eyes reminded Elísabet of the hawks. He was up to no good. It took every ounce of strength that she had spent years developing to keep from approaching as Edvard separated himself from the crowd and bowed in front of his lord.

"It is time we advance your status." The Jarl spoke softly and motioned for Edvard to stand. Edvard was confused, but did as he was commanded. He had sworn an oath as a boy to follow Jarl Ari and he would not break it. He could not stop his eyes seeking out Elísabet, however. She stood out in the pure white cloak, and he felt his heart began to race. She was more beautiful than ever and he knew whatever his lord was about to ask of him would break her heart.

"As you know, I have a daughter." The Jarl's voice rose in volume. His eyes did not wander from Edvard's face but it clear he was addressing the crowd as well. "Jóhanna, my only child and heir, has come of age and it's time to find her a husband. I asked her who she fancied, and her answer could not have pleased me more."

It was apparent who she had picked. Jarl Ari had called him forward. Edvard would become Ari's son and heir. He would marry his daughter, produce his grandchildren, and perhaps even succeed him as Jarl. What was a dark thread in Elísabet's web was a golden one in Edvard's. She could think of no one more deserving. He would fulfill his duties and become great.

Edvard could only stare in shock as Jóhanna—petite and blonde, nothing like his Bet—walked forward and the Jarl placed her hand in his. He couldn't turn him down, no matter how wrong Johanna's hand felt in his. Elisabet had been right, he couldn't fight his destiny.

He looked back up to the cheering faces of his friends, family, and the rest of community. There were so many of them, but he only had eyes for one. Tears streamed down her face, but she was still beautiful, her head held high, and her lips forming a smile. Her heart was breaking, but she would be damned if she ruined everything for him. She had a strength greater than all the warriors he knew. He remembered the promise he had made to her just an hour ago to never leave her. Warmth spread through his chest, a warmth that could only come from her and the love they shared.

His eyes pierced hers. He was not giving up on her. He would walk the path that the Norns placed before him, and she would too. They would never lose faith that those paths would intersect again. Edvard and Elísabet knew that they belonged together, and they would fight whatever battles needed to be fought to get there.

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Historical Notes

Edvard is an icelandic version of the name Edward.

Isabella is a spanish and italian translation of the name Elizabeth. Therefore I changed her name to the icelandic variant Elísabet.

Aro has no proper translation so I opted instead for the old norse name Ari which means "eagle."

Jane is an english name so I replaced it with the icelandic version Jóhanna.

A jarl is a medieval Scandinavian chieftain or nobleman.

Odin All-Father is the chief god of the norse pantheon.

Freye is the goddess of love, fertility, and battle.

Lofn is the goddess of forbidden love.

Máni is a god. He rides in a cart and guides the moon around Midgard (the earth.)

Thor is the son of Odin and one of the greatest warriors of Asgard (the realm of the gods.)

The Valkyrie carry valiant slain warriors to Valhalla (norse version of heaven) to await the end of the world.

According the Norse Mythology on the night a person is born the Norns, or the fates, weave their Web of Fate out of gold and dark string. The golden string is all the good things that happen in a person's life while the dark is everything bad. Both strings play a part in a person's destiny. Once the web has been weaved it cannot be broken. Even the gods have to follow their fates.


	2. Visions and Fates

**A/N:** I knew as soon as I finished the first draft of this that I wanted to continue it. It just sunk into my head. The Norse and their mythology are endlessly fascinating. It's been exciting to to explore their world through these two. I don't know who long this going to be. I do know this chapter barely scratches the surface.

Much, much love to the beautifully talented LyricalKris for her beta skills, and Angelycdevil and Lellabeth for their sweet comments in my doc. Also to Vinyl1978 who made that beautiful banner.

Drop me a line and tell me what you think?

Onward!

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**Chapter Two**

Visions and Fates

Elísabet woke just as the sun was beginning to rise. She had slept later than usual. Her heart was heavy, and her dreams had been troubled by strange visions and beings shrouded in smoke. She'd startled awake a dozen times only to remember the events of the night were worse than any of her dreams.

Wearily, she pushed herself off the pallet on the floor. The day would not wait for her. It would be better to face it now. She simply had to bear it like the seer she was.

She was still blinking and trying to clear her vision as she stumbled into the front room of her mother's hut. Renate was bent over the fire in the middle of the room. Elísabet and Renate were lucky. Next to Jarl Ari, they had the biggest house in the village. Elísabet slept on the floor of the store room in the back during the summer when it was warmer. It was rare for anyone to have that kind of privacy. She knew to enjoy it while she had it.

Elísabet sank onto the dirt floor next to her mother. She felt like the strength had left her body. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so tired, so weak. It was more than just the lack of restful sleep. Her mind felt sluggish and hazed. She knew the uneasiness stemmed from the way things had ended with Edvard the night before. At the first chance she had, she'd slipped out of the longhouse, returned here, and cried herself to sleep. She knew she should have been stronger than that. She was a seer of the gods, and one day she would lead her people and assist the jarl in following them. At times like this, though, she still felt like a small child completely overwhelmed by the world.

Elísabet felt her mother's eyes on her. She knew Renate must have been worried. Elísabet was a strong girl, though she may have been quiet and conservative. It had been long since she was a child and had curled up at her mother's feet. She knew that she needed to strong, that things would only worse from there, but she could barely hold herself together. For once, she wanted a mother's love and for her mother to understand, but she knew it was unlikely to happen.

"What's wrong, My Little Hrafn?" Renite asked, looking over at Elísabet while she continued making their breakfast. "You seem to be a leagues away this morning. Did you have too much fun last night?"

Elísabet managed a smile at her mother's tease. The truth was that none of the previous night had been fun. Well, perhaps the parts when Edvard had held her in his arms had been fun, but the rest simply made her heart heavier. She could remember all too clearly the smile on Johanna's face when the Jarl had placed her hand in Edvard's. Elísabet had to fight a sudden surge of anger as well. Edvard did not belong to that spoiled brat.

Elísabet took a deep breath and struggled to keep her emotions under control. Renate was incredibly perceptive, and even she could not know about Elísabet and Edvard. She might have been able to understand, but she would not allow it continue. "I just had a troubled sleep. Strange dreams. I will be fine when I begin moving I am sure."

Reneta's eyes darkened at her daughter's words. "Tell me about your dreams, Little Hrafn."

Her voice had changed. It lost the light and airy lilt and instead moved into the deeper, mystical tones she used when she told the future to the troubled villagers. There was a core of steel to her words that made it clear what was asked for would be answered. Elísabet took a deep breath and prepared to answer the question as carefully as she could.

"I don't remember much—just shadows. There was something in them, but I couldn't see what it was. There was a deep noise like drum beats and the ringing of steel on steel. I swear to you though, MÓđir, I couldn't make any of the shapes out. They were as unclear to me as the bottom of the sea."

Renate hummed a tune and stared off into space as she digested her daughter's words.

Elísabet stared into the flames and waited for her mother to speak. She hadn't lied; she'd had troubling dreams after she had fallen asleep. She simply hadn't told her mother about her other troubles. Elísabet was certain the dreams were just a manifestation of her worries with Edvard. There was no reason to be worried about some shadows in the dark when her whole life was crumbling around her.

Renate seemed to disagree however. "You need to learn the importance of these dreams. If they come again tonight, try to focus on the figures in the mists. How do they move? What color are they? The gods may be trying to tell you something. You will have to have open your eyes and ears if you want to hear them."

"Why would they tell me anything?" Elísabet's voice sounded glum in her own ears. They hadn't told her how to keep Edvard. She had disobeyed them and Jarl Ari when she fell in love with him in the first place. Elísabet was having trouble finding it in her heart to care about them at all.

"Because you are a seer, Elísabet." Renate was now truly studying her, and Elísabet shivered under her sharp gaze. She couldn't seem to keep warm anyway. She had never been so cold. Even her skin seemed paler than normal. A winter had settled into her and that scared her beyond belief. "You are my daughter, and you have my gift. The gods have chosen us to tell their word to the people, and that is not something that can be taken lightly. You'll be fine, My Little Hrafan. Here. Eat. It'll make you feel better."

Elísabet accepted the bowl of barley porridge with a poor attempt at a smile. Renate beginning chattering away about all the gossip while Elísabet struggled to find the will to eat. She simply had no appetite. Her thoughts were ensnared like a piece of a tangled string. She briefly thought about sorting through them, but after a short attempt, she gave up.

The mention of Edvard's name brought Elísabet back to the present. "I'm told Johanna was over the moon. Edvard is a good man for her. He would make a wonderful jarl one day."

"Yes, he would," Elísabet whispered softly. She would be his seer and stand by him, but their love would be denied. It felt like a knife had been twisted into her heart. It was the first time she had thought of it. She wasn't sure how it could be done. Then again, the vision she had in the summer said he would be leaving for some unknown land, so perhaps there was no point to her worry.

"I can still see you and him when you were both babes. He followed you everywhere you went. I thought that... well, it doesn't matter. He must be thrilled."

"I didn't talk to him afterwards last night."

"Oh, I'm sure everyone wanted a piece of him last night. I mean Jarl Ari has all but made him the next jarl. Who would have thought, Birger's son a jarl?"

"Birger is just as honest a man as anyone else." Elísabet's voice was hard and clipped. She had always been protective of Birger. He was not a warrior, but that didn't make him any less a man.

"Oh, of course, not. You know I adore that man." Renate waved off her daughter's worries. "It's just a shame he will never enter Valhalla. You wouldn't be here without him you know."

Elísabet pulled herself out of the dark cloud she had been in and focused on her mother. This was a story she had never heard. She shook her head to encourage Renate to continue.

"Yes, you were no more than a two years old. The gods sent a plague through our village. It took your father first. He was struck down in his prime. A valiant warrior and denied the right to die in battle."

Renate appeared lost in her memories. Elísabet had no memory of her father,.Renate still clearly missed him. It was a pain Elísabet could never truly join her in, so she let her alone to deal with her own feelings.

It didn't take Renate long to push away her visions. She had never been one for dwelling on the past. "It was only a month or so later that you became sick. I begged the gods to spare you, and they sent me Birger."

Birger was an alchemist and perhaps the smartest man in the village. He knew how to heal everything from a bruised shin to an arrow in the chest. Elísabet had seen him work wonders. Many looked down on him because he had turned down being a warrior, and even now, refused to lift a blade, but he was invaluable to the village. He kept them healthy, and that was a gift that none dare refused.

"I took you to him and begged him to save you. I will never forget the gentleness in his eyes when he took you from my arms. You were so sick that you wouldn't even cry. Edvard was sick as well, and when we placed you and him together, you both curled up next to each other. I don't know how he did it, but Birger saved you both. He gave you back to me. I could never take him for anything less than a great man."

Elísabet had to agree. Birger was a little odd in his views, but he was also the most caring, gentle, and giving person she knew. Edvard had learned everything he was from his father. All except for his ability to fight. Birger refused to even touch a weapon. He hating fighting, perhaps because he saw it's gruesome results. It meant that he would never go to Valhalla, but he didn't seem to mind.

All this talk about Edvard and his father only served to sink Elísabet deeper into her haze. She stood up and brushed away any dirt that had collected on her dress. She couldn't sit in the hut with her mother any longer. It was driving her insane. She needed to be somewhere where no one could see her cry. "I'm going to go do my chores. I'll be back in a little while."

"Elísabet." She turned around slowly to face her mother but would not meet her eyes. "Perhaps you should go see Birger before you start working. He might have something to help you feel better."

That idea had value. Birger would have something to calm her, and she might even see Edvard while she was there. She thanked her mother and stepped out in the village.

Elísabet walked down the street, careful to wave and send a cheery hello to everyone as if there was nothing wrong. As she walked, she tried to talk herself into believing it.

She had always known something like this was coming. Edvard was handsome, valiant, and honorable. He would make anyone a good husband. In their own eyes, Elísabet and Edvard were bound together. In the eyes of everyone else, they were only friends and could no more be together than Mani and Sol could lead the moon and sun to the same place. This was a simply a fact of their lifes, a strand in the fates. Elísabet would learn to live with it. In the meantime, no one could know her true desire.

She had had just begun to lock her feeling behind an oak door when she got to the end of street and came upon Birger and Idunn's hut. She still knew it well. Like her mother had said, she and Edvard had played out in front of this hut almost everyday when they were young. It was the last house before the sea and they used to test Idunn's rules on how far away they could go. They were unable to get far before Idunn would call them back. As they got older, they had left the safety of the grass in front of his home, but it would always have a special place in her heart.

Idunn smiled when she saw Elísabet approaching. Idunn had never had a daughter of her own. Her only child had been Edvard, and so she had doted on the girl he had taken a shine to.

Elísabet felt some of the heaviness leave her when she saw Idunn's smile. She loved her mother dearly, but Renate had never been very motherly. Renate had been too caught up in the future and everyone else's problems to have much time for her own, very active, child. Idunn had filled some of that void for her. Edvard and Elísabet had gotten in more trouble, usually at Edvard's instance, than all the other children, and Idunn had been the one to pick up the pieces and put them back together.

It was with that same feeling, like she could make everything better with just a touch, that Elísabet fell into her embrace. She hadn't even realised how much she had been carrying around until Idunn pulled her against herself. Elísabet's eyes felt wet as she felt herself shake in the pre-dawn light. Idunn felt soft and warm, a safe harbor in the storm-tossed waves.

Idunn hummed in the girl's ear and tried to sooth the young woman in her arms. "What's wrong, Elísabet? When I saw you last, when Edvard and the others were getting off the boat, you seemed so happy."

Elísabet struggled to get a better rein on her emotions. She had to do better than this. She couldn't cry at the drop of a hat. For one, everyone would know that there was something wrong, and they would find out about her and Edvard. For another, she was a seer. She did disloyalty to the gods with her cowardice. Try as she might, she couldn't stop the tears from falling or convince herself to move from Idunn's arms. Her voice was so much like Edvard's, warm and melodic, and the scent of smoke that clung to her skin reminded her of home. She felt safe here and she knew that she couldn't lie to Idunn. She would see right through her. "I can't talk about it. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you."

"You are no trouble. You're like a daughter to me." Idunn smoothed Elísabet's hair, hoping to calm her. "Is this about Edvard?"

Elísabet gasped and lifted her head to meet Idunn's grey-blue gaze. "How did you... how did you know?"

Idunn laughed. The sound held a hint of sadness. "I know my son, and I know you. He has always looked on you differently than anyone else. You would have to be blind not to see the bond between you. Fortunately, most everyone is and so they don't. I am so sorry, Elísabet. I wish there was some way to change this. Edvard was distraught when he told us."

Elísabet swallowed thickly. She knew that she and Edvard must be two mirror images of pain. She could still remember the look he had given her last night. It had been fiery and determined. It had made her weak in the knees and made her skin tingle. Then again, that was Edvard's usual effect on her. "I know. There is nothing to be done, however. We can't fight destiny."

Idunn smiled secretly and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Elísabet's ear. "Don't be so sure. When Edvard gets an idea into his head, you can be sure he will bend heaven and earth to see it come true. I don't think you two are finished yet. Now, why have you graced us with your presence this morning?"

"I did not sleep well last night." Elísabet blushed although she didn't understand why. "Renate thought Birger might have something to ease some of the weariness from my limbs."

"I'm sure he does." Idunn swept her into one last hug. "Be strong, Elísabet. I'm sure it will all work out in the end. Now Birger is inside. Go on in."

Elísabet walked into the hut and was assaulted by the smell of boiled herbs and something mildly rotten. Birger and Idunn were both wonderful people, but that didn't mean that what they did was always pretty. She almost choked on the thick smoke. Birger appeared out of the mist and guided her down to sit on a wooden stool. He hurried to clear out the smoke and returned with an apologetic smile under his bristly blond beard. "I'm sorry about that, Elísabet. I burned a potion that stinks at the best of times. What can I do for you?"

Elísabet explained her troubled dreams, and Birger nodded thoughtfully. He stood up to dig through a chest against one wall. He pulled something small out of the chest and returned to her side. "Drink just a drop or two of this before you sleep tonight. You should be able to sleep soundly. Is that all you need?"

She looked away, studying the weave of the thatch on the roof. Anything to not have to look at Birger's piercing blue eyes. He wasn't intimidating so much as he just saw more than anyone else. She had no doubt he knew about her relationship with Edvard as Idunn had. How she had ever thought they wouldn't know was a mystery to her. She felt her cheeks flush and wondered briefly if everyone in the village knew.

"Birger, may I ask you a question?" She bit her lip feeling suddenly nervous. Elisabet had begun to question the world and the gods in particular. While he did believe, Birger also didn't hide that he thought some of the ideas presented in the stories might have been a little out of context.

"Anything you need."

He nodded encouragingly and she asked in a small voice, "Do you believe we cannot change our fates?"

He was silent for a moment, still thinking through her question. That was one of the things Elísabet appreciated about him; he didn't try to fill the space with words where they were not needed. She waited until he had an answer, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap.

"Would it interest you to know that Edvard asked me the same thing last night?"

The first real smile of the day spread across her face. She shook her head. After the words he had spoken to her last night, she wasn't surprised. Edvard was a fighter and he wouldn't be giving up on them yet. She nodded her head and Birger returned the smile.

"I will tell you the same thing I told him. The Norns may weave our fates, and they may not. Regardless, how do you know what that fate may be? Even you cannot see all of them. In the end, you must make choices as best you can. It may yet be your fate to spend your life with Edvard, and you may marry whomever the jarl chooses for you. In the end, you must make your own choices as best you can."

She nodded and tried to understand. She supposed he had a point. She knew she couldn't know the Norns' minds. She could no more see her web of fate than she could see the sun when it set in the west.

"I understand that." Elísabet replied tentatively. Birger was very understanding, but surely even he could get tired of her endless questions. His encouraging nod was enough to put her at ease. "How do I know whether I'm making the right decision? My heart tells me to do whatever I can to be with Edvard, but my head knows that it's my duty to do as the jarl commands. Which do I follow?"

"In the end, only you have know the answer to that. You'll know when the time comes." He smiled and Elísabet was struck by the warmth of his smile. It reminded her of Edvard's although perhaps even more kind. For the first time since last night, Elísabet felt calm. She could think again, and more than anything, she needed Edvard.

"Thank you, Birger. I cannot thank you enough."

She scrambled to her feet, ready to run out and find her lover. She was stopped by gentle, smooth fingers on her forearm. She looked down at Birger's blue eyes which were filled with worry and apprehension. "Elísabet, I want you know, whatever you and Edvard decide, Idunn and I will help."

She looked at this man, her lover's father, and understood. Whatever happened to her and Edvard would affect more than just them. It would affect his parents, her mother, their friends. Would the jarl harm them if Edvard and Elísabet ran away? Would they ever see them again? She felt her heart freeze in her chest. Suddenly the world felt so much bigger and she so much smaller.

"Thank you, Birger." Her voice was solemn, understanding better than ever before what she was doing. This was not a decision that could be taken lightly. They would have to think through it carefully.

It took everything in her to not run from the hut. She knew whom she needed, and she needed Edvard, and she knew where to find him. She could use her chores as an excuse to see him. It was enough to start with.

The waterfront was always the busiest place in the village. Their lives depended on the water. Whether it was the men out fishing or the men out a-viking, none of them could survive without the sea. The women cleaned and children played among the waves. Elísabet used to love the waterfront. She loved the cold water lapping at her feet and crisp, clean air that brushed her skin. She loved the lack of silence and the constant movement.

Mostly she loved watching him. When Edvard wasn't hunting, she could be certain he was in the water fishing or working on the boats. This morning he was waist deep in the water helping to push a large dragon boat onto the shore. His tunic had been discarded on the bank and the thick muscles of his chest glistened with sweat and sea water. Her eyes widened as they soaked in the image before her. She knew how beautiful his body, was but she was still unable to look away.

Knowing she couldn't be caught staring, she shook her head to clear her thoughts and moved on down the shoreline. Part of her gaze, out the corner of her eye, remained on him. He never looked up to her. He remained focused on the duties before him, but Elísabet still felt the warm glow settle over her that always came with his gaze. It helped clear some of the remaining haze from her mind.

She settled a few yards down the beach from the boats where the rest of the women were. Cleaning was a huge part of the day and one of Elísabet's more favorite chores. It was better than staying in the smoky hut while Renate saw future-seeker after future-seeker. She preferred to be out in the open air. The fact she could still see Edvard helped to make her decision as well.

A few of the other women greeted Elísabet with smiles, but they mostly gave her space. Renate was treated the same way when she went out. As seers they were highly revered, and it was hard to be close to someone you revered. When she was still young, Elísabet had been treated just like the other children, but as she got older and her gift began to develop, things had changed. Elísabet understood, but there were still times that she missed the companionship.

Fortunately, she still had one friend, other than Edvard, who simply didn't care what she was. Ástríđr, or Ásta as most of her friends called her, had grown up in the village with Elísabet and Edvard. Unlike most of the girls, however, Ásta had been prone to playing war with the boys. By the time they were of age, Ásta could even beat most of them. As such, she had been trained as a shield-maiden. Jarl Ari had even allowed her to be counted amongst the warriors. She and her husband, Eiríkr, had gone viking together now for two seasons.

Despite their differences, or perhaps because of them, Elísabet and Ásta were good friends. Where most others were respectful and reverent around the young seer, Ásta remained her friend first and follower second.

So, Elísabet welcomed it when the willowy woman knelt next to her. Ásta was gorgeous, with a thin body and long, pale blond hair. Her blue eyes were so dark they were almost violet, and Elísabet had always thought that they were piercing. Ásta was incredibly sharp and wasn't afraid to say what was on her mind. Elísabet had heard people saying they'd hoped Eiríkr would beat that out of her. If anything though, Eiríkr encouraged it.

Ásta studied Elsabet for a moment, and she struggled not to squirm under her gaze. Ásta saw more than Elsabet was ever comfortable with. "How are you faring?" Ásta asked under her breath. Ásta and Eiríkr were the only other people who knew about her and Edvard. As their oldest friends, it had been hard to hide that secret. Having their support still meant the world to Elísabet. "I saw you last night before you slipped out. I know how hard that must have been."

Elsabet shrugged. She knew she couldn't lie to Ásta. She would see right through her. At the same time, Elsabet didn't feel like talking about it. She had already talked to Birger, and the only other person she wanted to talk to was Edvard. She knew that wouldn't happen for a while, so she would have preferred to be alone with her thoughts.

Ásta never took no for an answer though. "Talk to me, Elísabet. I know last night must have affected you, I know how much you love Edvard, and I know it will kill you to watch him marry another. You can't lie to me. I also know how determined Edvard is. So tell me what's going through your mind so I can help."

"It doesn't matter." Elísabet's eyes remained on the rocks and water. She could feel words bubbling up her throat. Her thin, frayed nerves had been stretched too far now. After crying on Idunn's shoulder, her discussion with Birger, and her mother's revelations, she felt tired and overworked. If there was anyone to fall apart with it was Ásta. "Even if he does marry that spoiled brat, he is still going to leave at some point. He was always going to. This changes nothing."

Ásta gripped Elísabet's wrist with her thin, hard fingers. Elsabet didn't know what her gaze showed, but she has passed caring. Whatever it was, it must not have been pretty as Ásta's eyes widened in horror. "You saw something." She gasped. "While we were gone. You had a vision about Edvard."

"And you and Eiríkr."

Using the strength in her willowy body, Ásta pulled Elísabet to her feet and dragged her to a short ways into the forest. Elísabet didn't try to fight her. For one, she knew Ásta would always win. For another, she knew she owed Ásta an explanation. So she meekly followed her friend into the forest where none would overhear them. She wondered briefly if Edvard had watched them leave. Perhaps he would try to follow them. She knew it was unlikely, but she could wish.

Ásta released her when they reached a small glade. The weak sunlight beamed down and bathed the area a greenish glow. Elísabet's knees felt weak, and she sank down to the dew laden grass. Tucking her knees against her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, she felt irrationally safer. Ásta sat beside her with her long limbs stretched out. There was an ax hanging on her belt, and Elísabet found herself studying the razor sharp line of its edge.

"Tell me what you saw. And don't try to change it to make me feel better. I need to know. We need to know everything."

"I was on a hill," Elísabet began in a weak voice. "There were no trees, just grass and mountains far off in the distance. I was alone with the wind. I could hear a battle, but I was never able to see where it was. It was like my eyes could see only certain things. I could see a hundred boats in the water and a mighty thunderstorm off on the horizon. I could see our village sheltered in the trees. I saw myself pacing in the forest. I looked worried, scared. It was snowing. I was shaking, but I didn't do anything about it.

"I looked out across the sea, beyond the boats and the storm. There was land to the west-a lush, green land. The woods were even thicker than they are here, and the sunlight was so bright. It looked warm and comfortable, not weak like here. It was beautiful, and I was so enraptured in the majesty that I missed the most important part: our boats were on the shore.

"You should have seen them. The wood gleamed under the sun, and the sea looked so calm. It was like glass. I have never seen anything so beautiful. My eyes traveled up the hill, and there was a small settlement, the mirror of our own village. I could have walked those same streets and never been lost. I saw you and Eiríkr. You were smiling and seemed happy. There was a dark haired girl and a blond man I didn't recognize. There was something odd about them, though. The last person I saw was Edvard. He was strong and powerful. Everyone looked on him with reverence and was a child in his arms. A boy with red hair and dark eyes. There was shadow of woman behind him.

"Before I could tell who it was, the storm appeared and cut off my view. The only thing I could still see was my figure crying in the woods of home. I tried to look past the storm, but I couldn't see anything but the wind and lightning. I was alone with the sounds of battle."

Elísabet struggled to breathe as the emotions got to her again. Tears fell from her eyes as she remembered the pride on Edvard's face as he held his son. Why shouldn't he have been proud? He had come so far, become so much. Or he would. She sometimes forgot she saw the future in her visions. Regardless, he would become something great while she stayed where she was, alone. In the simple warmth of the sun, she struggled to control her mind. There was no point in crying over it. It was what is was.

Ásta reached out and pulled Elísabet into an embrace. Elísabet struggled to control her cries, knowing that she was better than this. It felt good to have someone else know the truth of her vision. Edvard only knew the basics, and she didn't have the heart to tell him of the child. Just the thought of it pierced her heart. Secretly, she had always dreamed of having Edvard's children. That would never happen now.

"Elísabet, listen to me. Who else have you told of this?"

"Edvard's knows part of it, but he's the only one."

"Even your mother doesn't know?"

Elísabet shook her head. She normally told her mother every vision she had, but this one she could barely speak of to herself much less her mother. Even if she had wanted to tell Renate, she wouldn't have been able to speak of it without tears, and then Renate would have known about her trysts with Edvard. No, she had to bear that burden alone.

"Alright, fine. Then you listen to me, Elísabet. I know you think you understand what you saw, but even the greatest seers have gotten things wrong. The gods aren't clear in their will, and no one can understand what the Norns are thinking. I, for one, refuse to believe you are meant to be unhappy your whole life. I know other people who would say the same thing so don't argue with me. You can't let this destroy you. I haven't spoken to him, but I know Edvard will fight for you. You need to be strong enough to fight as well. He can't do it alone, no matter how much he might think he can."

Elísabet took a deep breath, struggling to calm her racing heart. Ásta was right, of course. She was being crazy. They had known this was coming. She couldn't let one night crush her spirit. Yes, Edvard was promised to the Jarl's daughter, but that didn't mean they couldn't fight for the future they wanted. They just had to be strong.

She pulled away from Ásta and brushed the remaining tears from her face. She'd had two good cries and that would be all she needed. She'd been through enough self pity. Now it was time to get to work. She set her face, hoping that she could erase the worry and fear that had been there all morning. She wouldn't be weak again.

Ásta smiled and helped her fix her hair. "This will work out. I'm certain. I want you to be as happy as Eiríkr and I are, and I'm certain that you will be. My advice would be to forget about that vision altogether. It will do nothing but cause you more pain. You need to stay focused here, in the present."

Elísabet took one last deep breath and stood up. There was still work to be done, and she needed to see Edvard. It burned inside of her with the strength of a bonfire.

The girls walked together down the path. Ásta told her about the places the vikings had traveled to and the things they had done. She had all sorts of stories, and Elísabet would gladly have soaked them all up. She had always been jealous of the warriors who got to travel beyond their humble home. No one, not even Edvard, knew how much she yearned to see the world beyond the village. She had been raised knowing her place, so she had never tried to go but she would gladly sit and listen to the stories for hours.

Ásta finished telling her about a captive who spoke in a strange, garbled language when they came back out of the trees and to the shore line. Elísabet did her best to ignore the green gaze she could feel across the beach. If she looked at him now, she would not be able to stop herself from rushing to him. She would have to wait until she could get him alone later.

"Eiríkr and I were going to head home tomorrow, but after yesterday, we thought you might need us here." Ásta and Eiríkr lived on his family's farm several leagues from the village. Elísabet was surprised to hear this news. She knew the planting needed to be done soon before the winter snows. They couldn't afford to dwell here long.

"You shouldn't do that. We can take care of things here. There's not much to be done anyway. You might as well go home."

"Regardless, we're not leaving yet." Ásta flicked her long blond hair out of her face. It was clear to Elísabet that the young shieldmaiden would not be swayed from her course. It almost appeared as if she was ready to go into battle. The only thing missing was her war paint. "We will leave in a few days, but not until we know a few things."

"Like what?"

"Like whether your Edvard has a plan on how to get out of his betrothment. The Jarl will want the wedding to happen soon. He doesn't have a lot of time to work with."

Ásta continued talking but her voice slipped from Elísabet's mind. The mists rose at her feet. Her eyes glazed over as she was ripped from the world of flesh and bone. She became lost in a world of dark fog and rain. She stared wide eyed, terrified, and a cry froze in her throat. She'd had many visions, but none like this. This was terrifying in its power and scope. She was powerless stop the vision and could only be swept up in it cruel embrace.

She didn't know how long she remained trapped. It felt like days but must have been only moments. When the mists receded she only caught a glimpse of the endless sea she had grown up around before she crumpled the ground and the blackness took her under.

* * *

**Historical Notes**

It is important to note that at this point in time the term "viking" as we use it was not common in Scandinavia. Viking is (or should be) a verb, not a noun. Viking is what they do, Norse is who they are. When you hear the characters talking about raids, or raiding, or that they "went a-viking" it means what you think. They would leave their villages in the summer when the seas were calmer and raid their neighbors for goods and treasure, and sometimes even land. Pirates the whole the whole lot of them. Gotta love it.

Neither Carlisle or Esme have a Scandinavian translation as both have English roots. I therefore changed them. Birger has a root in an Old Norse word meaning "to help, to save, to protect." Idunn is also an ancient Scandinavian name meaning something along the lines of "to love again." It was also the name of a minor goddess.

Emmett and Rosalie are also untranslatable. I changed them to Eiríkr, an Old Norse form of Erik meaning "ever ruler", and Astrídr, derived from the Old Norse elements of "god" and "beautiful, beloved." Asta is a diminutive (shortened form) of the name.

Renee has been changed to the Norwegian variant Renate.

Hrafn is an Old Norse word meaning raven.

MÓđir is the Old Norse word for mother.

If you have any questions that I failed to answer please ask in a review and I will try to answer it.


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